108 Sailcloth slacks with regimental belt $12 Easy-care polyester/cotton slacks with color- coordinated striped belt. Straight leg styling. Finished bottoms 8 summer shcldes (see coupon). WaIst 32, 33, 34, 36, 38, 40, 42. Satisfacti on guaranteed. () 0222 J S. A. Bank Clothiers 25 S Charles Street/Baltimore, Md. 21201 (301) 837-1700 Please send me the following sailcloth slacks @ $17. (Add $1 for first pair; 50t each additional pair for shipping, insurance, handling) Waist _ Inseam 030 032 034 Yellow _ Lt. Blue _ Whrte _ Brown_ Green _ Navy _ Tan _ Off-WhIte_ n Pers Check 0 Master Charge 0 Bank Americard Card # Expiration Date o Send me your FREE COLOR CATALOG Name Address City State _ Zip . " -'..\ '- .,. / - .:. :. :...... f - -' ...... -..t\t ",,01" --- 'l .... IT . · I . /. \ lot, 11 .Io! ' "It ) 1 J 'I.. , -...... t;; '1 \ ... ,:_', ' ).. '- ... _ J7.-- - -.. _ "'" ..: ..... THIS YEAR COME SEE A FOREIGN LAND ... THE REAL AMERICAN WEST America? Foreign? You bet it is! After alt what could be more foreign than 2,000,000 wilderness acres where snow-clad peaks soar into skies that have never known pollution's taint? Or solitary lakes and rivers so pure that you can lie on your belly and drink you r fill. Or cathedral groves of giant cedar that were ancient before Columbus. This is the awesome Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness where we - your licensed and bonded outfitters - will guide you into the private domain of deer , bear, elk, cougar wheeling eagles and fighting trout. Roadless Spectacular. Wild And Free. . . Mean- while, back at the ranch, superb log cabins and authentic teepees house our guests in the Old West setting of a working ranch Enjoy riding, hiking, boating, fishing swimming, chuck wagon feeds, moonlight cruises, weekly rodeos and just easy relaxin' by the shining lakes of Idaho's unspoiled panhandle Good fun' Great food! Grand friend- ships! TIMBER RIDGE RANCH P.O. Box 34-NY · HARRISON, IDAHO 83833 Please tell me more about' foreIgn" America Send me complete mformatlOn on wilderness and ranch ...... vacatIons todav ' ..,.j the years, I have learned to get rId of a lot of rubbish that I played, and I'm tending more toward melodic line. I lIke to play ballads more than I did. I play pretty much the same style, but I'm interested in playing it better- with a better sound, a better beat, a better knowledge of harmonic and melodic line. I think I have more polish, more technique, and more un- derstanding of this kind of music. And I still find it all very exciting." Freeman was silent for a few mo- ments and looked out the window. The taxi was slowly malang its way through the thick traffic at Hyde Park Corner. "What a lovely cíty!" Freeman said. "When I first laid eyes on it, I took one look and said, 'This is where I want to be.' At last, I have made it. I think I've been pretty luckv. I get fits of despondency now and then, but I don't turn to liquor, or anything. I have . learned to say to myself, 'Well, it will pass,' and It does. I have never had a negativistic view of life. I don't identify with age. I don't fee] old. I have many interests besides golf and reading. I love the theatre. I love the cinema. I love playing roulette. I love going to the races. I adore women, and I'm al- ways looking for that great love af- fair-which keeps me going. I love playing the horn, and I love jazz. That's the greatest therapy of all. Playing it or listening to it-it's sure to make you happy." We had now arrived at Simpson's. There we said goodbye, and Freeman got out onto the traffic island in front of the store. I glanced through the rear window after the taxi had drawn away. The piece of living history was still standing on the traffic Island, cast- ing his eyes up Piccadilly and down, drinking it all In. -JOHN BAINBRIDGE . ßIR.D-WINDOW-FL YING If we had been given names to love each other by, I would take this one from you, bird flying all day in my woodhouse. The door is open as when you came to it, into it, as space be tween branches. "Never trust doors," you tell the window, the small of your body flung against the white bay. At dusk, when I walked In with my armload of green alder, I could see the memory of light shining water through your wings. Y ou were gray with it. The wIndow had aged you with promises. I thought the boats, the gulls should have stilled you by now. When I cupped my hands in their shadows, warm over the heartwings, I saw the skin of light between my fingers haloed and glowing. Three steps I took with you, for you-th ree light-years travelling to your sky, beak and claw of you, the soft burr of flIght at my fingerbones. If I take a lover for every tree, I will not have again such an opening as when you flew from me I have gone in to bUIld my fire All the walls, all the wings of my house are burnIng. The flames of me, the long hair unbraiding. -TESS GALLAGHER